San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1887-02-19

never stand the old Squire's ways, and
the quaTTels between them grew worse,
until one day he left the old place,
vowing he would never return. He
was the old Squire's fayorite son, and
it most broke his heart TO let,him 90
like that; but his pride-the pride Of
the Gerards has always been their mis-
fortune-would not let him promise to
allow the lad to go a bit his own way.
He went right away to foreign parts,
and for years the old Squire heard
nothing of him. One day news came
to the Court that he was going to be
married to a foreign lady who had
nothing in the world but her beauty.
The Squire was very wroth about his
marrying a foreigner, and wrote him
that if he married her he should no
longer consider him son of his. The
letter was returned with another that
said it was all for love and the world
well lost They say the Squire swore
fearful oath that neither Wynyard
nor his should ever enter the Court
during his-the Squire's-lifetime."
We'll" says the girl breathlessly, as
the old man pauses, did he marry her,
after alp"
"Ay, he married her in spite of the
Squire; but she died few years after
wards. The Squire's oath was never
broken. Now Mr.. Ralph is Squire, and,
he and Mr.. Wynyard being Cousins,
maybe they have agreed to let by-gones
be by-gones. The Gerards are all fair;
but they do say Mr.. Wynyard is as dark
as the foreign lady his mother was, and
not bit like Gerard, save his frOwn,
which is just the old Squire's over
again."
The girl asks him no more questions,
but sits with her hands folded on her
lap and her eyes fixed on the moonlit
river, going over again in her thoughts
the story of Mr.. Vineyards father,
who married the beautiful foreign
lady, and told the Squire it was "all
for love and the world well lost"
An hour or two later Wynyard Ger
ard is smoking his last cigar up at the
Court, and wondering how he will be
able to kill time in such dead-and-
alive place.
1T is bad enough up in town, but
what can a fellow do with himself
down herep" he mutters. Then brill
liant idea occurs to him. "I'U trot
down to the mill tomorrow"
On the following afternoon, about
five O'Clock, Wynyard saunters down
w tnc I'LL, oLuohluS Cigar. DcloIS
him stands the old gray structure, and
which is the mill-dam. There too is
the miller, in his white busted clothes,
standing in the doorway, and on the
floor round about him are full white
bags of meal.
But the girl is not visible. "The little
rustic belle-where is she?" wonders
Wynyard. Perhaps she is hidden be-
hind the lattice-paned window over
which ivy and clematis creep, and be-
fore which is placed box Of glowing
scarlet geraniumS and golden calceO-
lariS.
Wynyard goes up boldly to the miller
and introduces himself; and he is not a
little amused at the simple reverence
with which he is greeted. The Squirrels
cousin is invited with old-fashioned re-
spect to enter the parlOr of the cottage.
Behind the profusiOn of geraniumS
which attracted his notice the young
fellows quick eyes detect a fair shy
face; and a timid voice says few
words to him in low sweet tones that
go straight to his very susceptible
heart. But his bright easy manners
and evident desire to please her have
their effect, and before long her shy
ness wears off, her face hushes as she
listens, and she looks up at him with
eyes blue as speedwells.
by JOve," he says to himself, Ralph
was right! She is a cOnfOundedly pref
ty girl-quite as pretty as HermiOne
Thynnel I'll be hanged if she isn'tl"
he finishes.
To utter that sentiment to a living
soul would be rank heresy, for to Miss
no 10. 70 no
paying his addresses. Early this sea-
SON he was caught by her golden hair
and shapely figure and fortune of thir-
ty thousand pounds. But it is no dis
loyalty to her, he tells himself, to get
up an Arcadian Irritation with this lit
tie rustic belle; and he proceeds forth
with to carry out his design.
The miller, after giving Wynyard a
very friendly welcome, goes back to
his mill, dismissed thereto by the
thoughtfulness of his guest, who beg
ged that he might not be in the way or
a hindrance. He would be well enter
tanned, he assured his host, if the
young lady would show him the roses
he had heard Mrs. Gerard speak so
highly of. -.
Wynyard walks in the garden with
the miller's pretty daughter, uttering
soft nOthings to her in soft voice that
says more than his words, and looking
into her eyes with glances that express
more than either, and doing it all in q
manner that makes her foolish little
heart beat faster with a feeling I'M
known till this hour and undefinable.
What is your namep You have not
yet told me your name," says Wynyard
presently, as they turn once more to
walk up the garden.
'Clytemnestra'; but my father calls
me 'Clytie," she answers.
'Clytemnestra'p he echoes; then
says to himself, "Do they go in for the
classics in this Arcadiap | must ask
Ralph" Aloud he says, where did
you get such pretty name fromp"
MY mother found it in a book" she
answers shyly.
Most assuredly then they do so in
for the classics in these wildsl" he tells
himself; and then he says softly, "And
may l call you 'Clytie' "-lingering on
the name-"as your father doesp"
Yes" she answers, in low coy tones;
and Wynyard does not fail to avail
himself of the privilege before he de.
parts for the Court.
Ralph doesn't know when, at dinner
Wynyard asks him whether the natives
study the classic in these parts.
When questioned as to why he asks
Wynyard merely replies that he was
passing the mill that afternoon, and
heard the miller call girl-"His
daughter would it be?" he asks care,
ly-"Clytemnestra."
'"Oh, yes, | remember" says Mrs
| Gerard, "his daughter is called ely,